


#icookyoudolaundry

by Metal_Chocobo



Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Chores, Domestic Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Chocobo/pseuds/Metal_Chocobo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mira Jalosuo @MiraJalosuo tweeted:</p>
<p>I tried to make @Nooraty41’s day and do laundry but I guess I destroyed our clothes #fail #icookyoudolaundry</p>
            </blockquote>





	#icookyoudolaundry

Noora was dead tired all the time. She was out of bed and driving to work before Mira even woke up every morning and didn’t get home until near dark. Minnesota summers didn’t have quite as much sunlight as Finland, but it was still a lot. The thirteen-hour workdays were wearing the goalie out. Mira also had work, but her days were only half as long. She tried to do little things to make life easier for the goalie, like pack lunches for both of them the night before, however this barely seemed to help. Noora still came in every evening and crashed on the couch as soon as she dropped her gear. Often she’d lie there in a half awake daze until Mira woke her up enough to get up and crawl into bed.

Mira knew something had to change the night Noora passed out in the middle of their dinner and a movie. She had been making breathy little huffs as if she couldn’t quite get the energy to laugh as the minions on screen proved incompetent yet again. Then the noise stopped. Mira looked over curiously. Nora loved those yellow monstrosities beyond all reason, even going as far as to suggest having them on her next mask after Sochi.

Noora’s eyes were shut and her chin rested on her chest. She had fallen asleep during her favorite children’s movie. Mira leaned forward and grabbed the remote. If Noora was asleep she’d rather watch CSI. However, the defenseman’s shifting had destabilized the goalie and Noora slid over until she rested on Mira’s shoulder. This would have been pleasant if Noora had intentionally cuddled up to Mira, but… oh, it was still comfortable. Mira just wished Noora was awake when they cuddled tonight. Mira then leaned back against the couch and wrapped an arm around her neck. She stroked Noora’s cheek as she muttered Mira’s name. It wasn’t until they got up to go to bed that Mira realized most of Noora’s mashed potatoes had not been eaten and were now mashed into the couch.

Noora was embarrassed and apologetic about her behavior, but there wasn’t much she could do. She was already running ragged and Sochi was still six months away. They didn’t talk about it, they couldn’t talk about it, but Mira was terrified her goalie would burn out. All she wanted to do was play in the Olympics with her girlfriend. They were both on the team and had almost gone to Vancouver together. She was still bitter about being cut less than a month before the games last time. She couldn’t imagine how awful it would be playing for Team Finland in Sochi without Noora. Mira already spent more than enough time alone in Russia as Noora found the Russian Women’s League too boring for her skill level. She hated it when Noora was on another continent, but that’s what they had to do for both of them to play hockey.

Mira was determined to do something to keep Noora awake for the few evening hours they had together. She just didn’t know what to do. Caffeine wasn’t the answer. Noora already had enough of that continually in her blood stream that adding any more had no effect. Either that or cause a heart attack. No, the solution was making Noora less busy.

The problem was that the chores were already spilt by skill set. Mira cooked six days a week because the only thing Noora didn’t burn to a crisp was charred meat. As for Noora’s tasks, Mira didn’t know the first thing about how to fix a toilet or unclog a drain. With their hair they had a lot of clogged drains. There was no way she was attempting yard work. Mira was certain Noora and the mower had an understanding that involved blood ritual sacrifice. It explained why she was the only person reliably able to get it to start.

Mira continued to wrestle with the question as they lay in bed together that night. It was warm out, but Mira knew Noora would be wearing nothing more than a ratty pair of boxers that used to belong to another Räty if all her sleep pants weren’t in the wash. Mira was also on her last piece of sleepwear, a stupidly sexy nightgown Amanda Kessel gave her when she realized why she and Noora bunked together even on road trips. Tomorrow Noora was doing their laundry after work, but until then they were basically out of clothes.

Mira sat up with a grin on her face. She could do the laundry. It wasn’t a hugely work intensive activity, otherwise Noora wouldn’t be doing it, but it did need a lot of time. She could easily do a couple of loads after work while making dinner. Then they could fold it together. That would make life a little easier.

She lay back down. In a moment of inspiration Mira leaned forward and kissed Noora’s nose. It twitched, but otherwise she didn’t respond. That was fine. She needed her sleep. Mira set her head down on the blonde hair covering her pillow. Often Noora kept it in a bun even while sleeping, but tonight it had escaped. That was also fine. Even if it was a huge mess in the morning she preferred Noora’s hair everywhere. It was sexy.

The next day after work Mira carried all the laundry down to the basement. It had been a few years sine she had done the laundry herself—Noora had taken that over after they first moved off campus—but she was confident she could remember how. She did her own laundry in Finland for years.

The basement lights weren’t working right, which made sorting difficult. Mora would have to change the light bulb or else call her landlord for an electrician if that didn’t solve the problem. She wasn’t risking Noora on faulty wiring. Still, there was enough light to separate the whites—well, lights really, she couldn’t see the difference in this environment—from the darks and she got the first load in before heading upstairs to start dinner.

They were having pickled herring and sweet potatoes for dinner. Not a fan favorite among their friends, but Mira and Noora had grown up eating this dish and similar ones. When nostalgia struck it was nice eating something from home. Besides, Mira could guarantee she would have Noora to herself if she was making herring. Somehow their old team always managed to find food elsewhere, despite being constantly hungry, when they knew the Finns were eating traditional fermented fish.

The herring was actually already prepared. It was store bought and Mira had prepped it last night, so that just needed heating. She had originally planned on mashing the sweet potatoes—neither of them liked boiled potatoes with their herring—but now decided to bake them instead. Peeling and mashing the spuds while doing the laundry seemed like too daunting a task. Baking was much simpler. A properly baked sweet potato was soft enough Noora could mash it in its skin if she really needed mush.

Mira threw together a salad before heading downstairs to check on the laundry. The whites were done. Mira transferred the soggy mass to the dryer, taking care to remove any bras. Those had to drip dry. Then she threw the darks for the second load. Both loads filled the machines, which made Mira wonder if she should have separated them a little more, but they seemed to be running okay. Mira put the thought out of her mind. She didn’t need to worry needlessly.

Noora got home just before the baked sweet potatoes were ready. Mira managed to steer her into a seat at the table where the salads waited. Mira hurried into the kitchen to stick the fish in the oven before joining her girlfriend. Noora didn’t pick up her fork until Mira was properly situated.

“You did not have to wait for me,” Mira said. Noora clicked her tongue against her teeth and fixed Mira with a look.

“Of course I did,” she said, reaching for the defensemen’s hand. Mira gladly accepted it. “Eating is not particularly pleasant without you.”

They did not say much else during the meal. Noora and Mira had been together long enough the silence didn't scare them. Mira preferred it to idle chatter full of mundane questions with rote answers. ‘How was work?’ actively irked Noora as her time at MEGA Goaltending rarely varied, except when she had to skip her own practice in favor of sleep. Noora preferred to tell Mira things in her own time and Mira had quickly learned the narratives were more enjoyable at the goalie’s pace. Except for when the meal required two hands they held each other’s hand through all of dinner.

“Thank you,” Noora said, kissing and releasing Mira’s hand when she finished eating. She leaned back against her chair; eyes shut, and sighed contentedly. “Want my help with the dishes before I tackle the laundry?”

“I always want you,” Mira said, “but I have already done the laundry.”

“Oh?” Noora cracked an eye open.

“Mmm-hmm,” Mira nodded. “I mean, the colored wash still needs a spin in the dryer, but it is otherwise done.”

“Then I will load the dishwasher unless you would like me to take over now.”

“You can sit for a bit longer,” Mira said as she got up. “We can clear the dishes any time tonight. You will help me fold.”

“Of course.” Noora grabbed Mira’s wrist as she passed, halting the skater. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Mira smirked and leaned in close. “Nothing,” she whispered, tweaking Noora’s nose with her free hand, “you just got very lucky.”

Mira bounced down the steps to the sound of Noora’s laughter. She was beyond fond of that woman. Words couldn’t properly describe it. Now that a certain law had passed and Minnesota allowed a practice Mira was expecting an important question from Noora. It wasn’t idle in the slightest. But as much as she wanted it now Mira knew it wouldn’t happen until after Sochi. Everything was on hold until after Sochi. Mira just hoped Russia’s unfavorable climate wouldn’t keep Noora from asking until Mira was done with the Russian Women’s League.

Mira opened the dryer and frowned. The unit emitted a yellow glow that was better illumination than the light in the rest of the basement. In the light her whites looked… blue. If anything they should be tinged yellow from the glow. Mira poured warm clothing into a basket. She pulled out her phone, flipping on the flashlight function to get a better view. Everything was light blue.

“Perkele,” Mira swore.

There wasn’t much she could do about it now. One of the new Suomi blue items Team Finland recently sent must have found its way into the whites. Obviously it hadn’t been colorfast. She snapped a picture and tweeted the bad news at Noora. **I tried to make @Nooraty41’s day and do laundry but I guess I destroyed our clothes #fail #icookyoudolaundry** Best to let her know immediately that she had royally screwed up. Then she threw the darks in the wash.

On the way back up Mira dreaded facing Noora. The goalie was pretty chill about most things in life, but Mira had just wrecked about a third of her girlfriend’s wardrobe. She’d be furious if Noora had done that to her things. They didn’t have the budget to replace any of this. She was so mad she didn’t attempt replacing the light bulb or at least bother to bring a lamp down to the basement. Putting in an extra five minutes of effort would have averted this disaster.

Noora leaned against the couch smirking up at her. Mire set the former whites on the coffee table. Most everything in the basket was to a greater or lesser extent light blue now. The goalie leaned over the basket examining it for a moment before turning to Mira.

“I guess we do not have to worry about wearing white after Labor Day now,” she said.

Mira burst into tears. This was such a stupid mistake. If she had just looked twice none of this would have happened and their things wouldn’t be ruined. She had even known there was some never before washed stuff in the laundry. Mira pulled her hat down to cover her face. Noora didn’t need to see this. She had just wanted to do something nice for her girlfriend.

“Mira, Miracat, do not cry, sweetheart,” Noora whispered soothingly. She wrapped her arms around the taller girl and pulled her into a firm secure hug. “I was just teasing you a little, please stop crying.”

Mira continued sobbing. She kept one hand on the hat on her face, but the other found its way into Noora’s hair. Her fingers worked their way to her scalp and Mira felt grounded. Noora rested her cheek on Mira’s shoulder as she rubbed her back and made shhing noises. Eventually her crying quieted. Noora reached up and gently pulled the cap away from Mira’s face.

“There is my pretty girl,” she crooned.

“No I am not,” Mira grumped. She wasn’t. She had been crying and that always left her all red and blotchy. Even if she bothered applying make up now she would still look terrible after a crying jag.

“Then why do I find you irresistible?” Noora asked, reaching up and petting Mira’s cheek. Mira leaned into the touch. “If I had noticed how distressed you were I never would have said anything. It was just supposed to be some light ribbing on my part.”

“I just wanted to make your life easier,” Mira mumbled. “Instead I—”

“Hey,” Noora interrupted, squeezing Mira’s rear, “none of that now! You are the reason all the parts of my life not on the ice are bearable. Half the time I pull those crazy moves on the paint because I want to look cool for you. After all, what is the point of a goalie who cannot repel pucks?”

“Noora!” Mira wailed, wrapped her arms around her goalie. Her tears were completely forgotten. “Noora, you are the best goalie in the world.”

“And you are the best part of my life,” Noora said firmly. “I worry when you are unhappy.”

“Sorry.”

“Do not apologize. This was a sweet thoughtful gesture.” Noora slipped her hand to the back of Mira’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “Also, I might suggest you did me a favor; I look much better in blue than I ever have in white.”

Mira had to laugh at that statement. It was completely untrue as Noora looked great in white, or at least much better than she would in pale, unevenly dyed light blue. However, Noora looked so confident and pleased as she told this bald faced lie, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she did so, that Mira didn’t have the heart to call her on it. She knew Noora would wear those clothes until they came apart at the seams, proudly stating that her girlfriend dyed them just for her. It wasn’t that her fashion sense was terrible—though that was another issue entirely—she just wanted to make Mira feel good. There was no way Mira couldn’t when she had a woman love her that much.

“Help me fold?” Mira asked.

“I would like nothing better,” Noora said.

Noora disappeared into the kitchen, but came back with two open beers. She handed one to Mira as she sat down on the couch beside her. She then grabbed the remote and flipped on Netflix to an episode of Criminal Minds. She chose that show just for Mira. They spent a lot more time kissing than folding that evening, but eventually all the laundry was folded and put away. It wasn’t quite the quality time Mira had wanted, but she was happy with the outcome anyway.


End file.
